


Here Comes The Night Time

by thegrimshapeofyoursmile



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age II
Genre: Blood, F/M, Fenders, M/M, Multi, Vampire AU, also kinda a modern AU I mean there are fridges, vampire!Anders, vampire!Merrill
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-03-25
Updated: 2014-09-03
Packaged: 2018-01-17 00:12:26
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,828
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1366804
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thegrimshapeofyoursmile/pseuds/thegrimshapeofyoursmile
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After escaping his former master and vampire Danarius, Fenris swore that he would never have anything to do with a vampire again, let alone feed him. Thankfully, the invention of synthetic blood makes it possible for vampires to survive without biting anyone, which soon becomes law in all of Thedas (except the Tevinter Imperium because they are special snowflakes there).<br/>He really, really cannot explain why he agrees to help that one especially stupid vampire friend of Hawke's when it becomes apparent that Grey Warden physique does not give a fuck about law- but maybe, just maybe, it's not so bad. ///////////////(modern) Vampire AU, Fenders, enjoy.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I blame my girlfriend for this. 
> 
> Mind you, this will consist solely of scenes that are loosely tied together. There IS a story, yeah, but mostly I'll just write whatever scene pops into my mind that plays in this universe and sort of....put it in here. Does this make sense? I hope so.
> 
> Now, to the universe this takes place at: Everything is just like in Dragon Age- however, people can be turned into vampires. Most people die, though, those who survive the Turning are very often mages who are supported by demons (more often blood mages/abominations than not) or spirits. Vampires are NOT dead; the organism of the Turned person just changes. Means, vampires have a heartbeat and whatever else, but instead of food they need blood. Regularly. Which led to hundreds of dead people in every town with more than two vampires and thus vampire hunts carried out by the Templars- until synthetic blood was invented two or three years ago, making it possible for vampires to not feed on their Fidelii (the people vowing to feed the vampire in question and getting protected in return, often lovers or family members). Drinking synthetic blood also sorta became law for vampires in all of Thedas.
> 
> Jesus Christ, I hope that's not too complicated. Anyways, enjoy!

When Fenris sees Anders for the first time, he wants to rip his heart out and stomp on it because the mage walks towards them with raised hands and warningly bared fangs. He is a fucking vampire and everyone in Darktown stands ready to defend him.  
Fenris does not understand. Vampires are monsters. Vampires do not run clinics in the poorest district of the city. Maybe all of the people in Darktown are his Fidelii, the people he feeds off, his blood slaves. Of course, there is synthetic blood now, but so far Fenris has not met a single vampire that drinks it willingly. Even that vampire mage Hawke is so fond of, Merrill, regularly feeds from Hawke and Isabela- with their consent, but still. Vampires do not care about regular people; they use them, and abuse them, and toss them aside when they are done, just like Danarius did.

This one, however, has eyes blazing with fury because they threatened some of the humans and elves standing in their way to the clinic. Fenris watches him closely while Hawke talks to him, watches his fangs grow back and hears his gentle voice after he noticed that Hawke is no threat for anyone.

Fenris does not fall for his lies for a second.

////////////

“Gross,” Hawke comments when he sees Anders drinking from the bottle he always carries with him. Anders, clad in a t-shirt and a matching skirt as well as sunglasses and an umbrella that shields him from direct sunlight, laughs and raises the bottle in a toast. His teeth are slightly red when he smiles and Fenris feels sick. “I cannot believe I make sure that you get that stuff.”

“Synthetic blood should be available for everyone, not only for those who can afford it,” Anders says and takes another sip, but he grimaces as if he is in pain instead of looking satisfied. Fenris does not understand why and he does not particularly care as well.

“Who cares about what vampires need?” He snaps and Anders looks at him, lowering his sunglasses; his eyes briefly flash blue.  
“You should, for example,” He says and smiles again. His teeth are still slightly red.

//////////////

Fenris sneaks into the clinic to watch the abomination. He expects-- something, anything, but Anders just works quietly and efficiently, fangs bared in just the slightest way because of the permanent smell of blood in the air. The mage knits flesh and mends bone, downing lyrium potion after lyrium potion to be able to heal as many patients as possible. 

Some people offer him their blood as a reward. The abomination just smiles, kisses the palm of their hands and sends them home. 

Fenris does not understand.

//////////

"What are you doing here?"

Anders looks up from the microscope and smiles at Hawke, Fenris and Merrill. "Hello to you as well," He says amiably and gets up from the chair he sits on. "I am trying to find a cheaper solution for the synthetic blood. Something that works as well, but is affordable for everyone." 

"Alright, Anders," Hawke says with a smile and Anders frowns for a moment before he sighs.

"What can I do for you, then, since you are obviously not interested in my studies?" He asks and raises a brow. 

"Why are your fangs bared?" Fenris asks because they are; he can see the tips of them glinting behind Anders' lips and the mage pronunciates more carefully than usual. Anders looks at him in surprise before he shrugs. 

"Why do you care?"

"You could be a danger for everyone if you are hungry," Fenris replies tersely and Anders' eyes flash blue for a moment when the demon he harbors presents its annoyance, but he walks over to a fridge without a word, pulls out a bag full of synthetic blood and guzzles it down without even warming it up, grimacing after doing so. Fenris notices Merrill making a face and scooting closer to Hawke, softly stroking his arm. 

"Still worried?" Anders asks and wipes his mouth. 

"Always," Fenris replies, so Anders just snorts and walks behind Hawke.

Fenris sees him subtly massaging his stomach at one point, but he does not care particularly much. Anders' fangs are still bared.

//////////

When Anders trips and falls for the first time on a mission, everyone just laughs at him. Anders sits up, rubs his elbow and laughs with them.

It is only later that Fenris catches him greedily drinking an entire liter of synthetic blood with something like despair, choking and struggling to not throw up for a while; when he manages to keep the blood, he closes his eyes, leans his back against a tree and roughly wipes his eyes. There is red liquid on his fingers.

Fenris has never seen a vampire cry before, but it figures that even their tears are tainted.

//////////////

The light is too bright and even breathing hurts. There is liquid around Fenris, dripping into his eyes, and he knows that it is his blood. When he coughs, the pain almost makes him pass out.

"Easy," A voice murmurs beside him and it is a beautiful voice, soft and gentle like the hands touching him. "Don't move. Your injuries are quite bad, but I think I can heal you. Jesus, so much blood. This is gonna be though."

Fenris wants to tell the creature to stay the hell away from him, but the magic that flows over him slowly mends his bones and knits his flesh together, taking away a big part of the pain so that he can finally open his eyes. Anders kneels above him, drenched in blood and the lyrium seeping from the lyrium veins in Fenris' body; his face is ashen and his lips tremble with effort, but he smiles reassuringly and his hands are steady. 

"Almost done," He says quietly and lisps through his fully elongated fangs; Fenris knows he should be afraid, but everything hurts and he feels very, very tired. 

Before he slips away into sleep, he sees Anders leaning back and licking the blood and lyrium he is drenched in from his arms like a starved animal. Fenris knows he should be repulsed, but for the first time, he sees Anders being almost something like content and then darkness claims him and nothing matters anymore anyways.

////////////

The second time Anders trips, he needs a while to be able to sit up and cradle his head in his hands, gently checking himself for fractures.

“My, my, I’m clumsy today,” He finally smiles, but his hands and lips are shaking; Fenris cannot remember having his fangs ever retracted, but this is the first time he actually really notices since that day in the clinic. Hawke does not buy his bullshit for a second.

“You need to feed,” He says, crouches down beside him and rolls up his sleeve. “Have you forgotten about your snack before we went on the mission?”

Anders shakes his head mutely, turning away from Hawke. “I don’t need your blood,” He finally says, “I’m not one of these vampires.”

“Anders, this is the first time you crumbled down into a heap in front of my feet without apparent reason,” Hawke says and even though his voice is gentle, reasonable, there is anger and worry in his eyes. “What the fuck is wrong? Talk to me. Do you need a different blood group or something?”

“No,” Anders whispers and curls a hand around Hawke’s wrist before he shakily breathes in. “The…the synthetic blood. It does not work for a Warden.” He smiles, but it is all bitter edges and sharp teeth in a face that is too pale. “I am so sorry, Hawke.”

“You could have told me,” Hawke says softly after a moment of silence; Fenris does not understand how he can be so calm and nervously shifts his weight from one foot to the other. “It’s alright, we’ll work something out. I promise, Anders. I promise.”

/////////////

Anders is gaunt and pale; he does not shake, but almost, and he does not meet Fenris' eyes.

Fenris does not know why he is helping him. Maybe he does it for Hawke.

"Sit down, please," Anders says quietly and points at a stool in the clinic. Fenris does as told and starts to bare his neck, but Anders stops him. His hand is very cold. "I just need your arm. Please."

Fenris grunts, but drops his gauntlet and rolls up his sleeve. He breathes in in surprise when Anders constricts his arm, looks for a vein and gently dabs at the crook of his elbow with a disinfecting swab before he reaches for a cannula. "What are you doing?"

"I am taking your blood," Anders replies and gently puts the cannula into Fenris' arm; it barely hurts. "I...I thought you might like it best that way and...yeah. It's the safest way as well."

Fenris says nothing, just watches his blood dripping into the blood bag. Anders, he notices, watches as well and even though his lips are closed, he has to part them a little when his fangs start to elongate. Surprisingly, they do not make him ugly. What makes him ugly is that he can barely stand without wavering, that he is so gaunt that his cheekbones are sharp as knives and that it is a miracle that his hands are steady.

"Tell me when you feel dizzy," He murmurs and it is strange; vampires do not care for those they feed off. Then again, usually vampires who feed on people do not do it like this anyways. When the bag is finally full, Anders carefully extends the cannula from Fenris’ arm and quickly glances at him before he nervously licks his lips. “You should stay here for a while to avoid dizziness, but uh…I can…drink in the other room if it makes you nervous.”

“It’s fine, it’s not as if I never saw a feeding vampire,” Fenris replies and Anders flinches a little, but he nods and grabs the bag, sitting down onto a chair heavily and swallowing before he lifts it to his lips and swallows greedily. Fenris watches him warily, waiting for the signs of pure pleasure, of excitement drinking fresh blood from the vein brings vampires, but there is nothing, just the haste of a starved animal and Anders’ tensed shoulders. When the bag is empty, he desperately sucks every last little droplet out of it before he leans back with a sigh and runs his hands through his hair, hand clenching around the empty bag. For the first time, Fenris wonders how starved Anders really is. 

“I can give you some more,” He offers hesitantly after a while, but Anders just shakes his head and presses his handballs against his eyes. His fangs are still visible, their bloody tips glinting in the cold, sterile light pouring from the ceiling. 

“Thank you,” He answers roughly. Fenris can see that his pale cheeks are a little more flushed than before, but he is not hard; apparently, drinking blood, however fresh it is, does not do it for him when being done in this sterile way. “I don’t want to take more from you than necessary. I…appreciate your kindness, though.”

“You’re useless to Hawke if you’re too weak to walk around without fainting, mage, “ Fenris snaps, but Anders just smiles and shakes his head, lowering his hands again. 

“Thank you,” He repeats and gets up. “I am going to rest for a while now. You taste extraordinarily lovely,” He adds almost like an afterthought and smiles sadly, lowering his eyes when he sees Fenris recoil as if being hit. Anders is gone before Fenris can say anything else.


	2. Isabela and Merrill: My Lover's Eyes

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Isabela and Merrill: A brief, happy interlude, to show that love is possible.
> 
> (This chapter is NSFW can be read on its own. You don't have to read it to understand the rest of the story. If you're uncomfortable with lesbian sex, just skip it.)

“I see someone is hungry,” Isabela says with a purr when she comes home and finds Merrill waiting for her with bared fangs, naked and smiling and kneeling on their bed. 

“I missed you,”Merrill says with that small lisp she always has when she is particularly excited about something and cannot be bothered to speak carefully through her elongated fangs. Isabela laughs and undresses; she makes a little show because Merrill is not going to die when she feeds two minutes later and Isabela knows from the slight flush in her cheeks that she enjoys watching her slip out of her boots and dress and underwear with carefully measured twists and turns of her body until she is naked except for her jewelry. 

“Of course you did, Kitten. Hawke’s away and there’s nobody else to feed you, is there?” Isabela teases her and laughs when Merrill starts to protest, all but crawling into Isabela’s lap. Her delicate, slim fingers are surprisingly deft when she opens the heavy golden necklace around Isabela’s neck. Merrill never has to drink from her wrist; they are way beyond that level now and Isabela loves it, just like she loves it when Merrill rids her of her jewelry. 

“I did not miss you for the blood,” Merrill tells her, big green eyes bright and honest when they look at her and Isabela softens inside and outside. Merrill does that to her; sometimes she thinks it is horrible enough to end it all.

When they kiss, Isabela swipes her tongue across Merrill’s lips and is careful of the teeth while she wraps her arms around the elf and hums in pleasure. There is a special glint in Merrill’s eyes when she lets her fingers glide across Isabela’s dark skin, gently cupping one breast in her powerful hand. She smiles when Isabela’s breath stutters in her throat as Merrill leans down and lets her fangs glide over one smooth, dark nipple, black hair sliding over Isabela’s skin when she sucks it between her lips. The amount of fascination Merrill holds for her body is incredible; it makes the attention-craving part of Isabela warm and tingly. 

Merrill squeals in delight when Isabela turns her over and presses her into the sheets, laughs when Isabela’s long hair, wild and freed from whatever hairband that could hold it, tickles her neck and moans when Isabela starts kissing her soft belly, all flesh and unmarred, cool skin. Isabela presses warm kisses against the insides of her willingly opening thighs and drinks in all her sounds, the small pants and little squeaks and dying words in her throat. Since Merrill has not freshly fed, there is only a little wetness between her legs, but her quiet hisses of pleasure are just the same as always when Isabela’s tongue circles lazily around her clitoris, her clever, experienced fingers softly stroking her outer labia. She bites back a laughter when Merrill starts to squirm and twist underneath her, strong fingertips pressing against Isabela’s scalp, magic trickling along her spine that makes her arch in desire.

When she leans up to kiss Merrill again, Merrill’s slender arms wrap themselves around her neck and she cannot help but smile when their lips meet again. Isabela is a lost cause for this woman, vampire or not; sometimes it bothers her, but tonight, she does not care. 

“It’s always so cold when you’re gone,” Merrill whispers and strokes Isabela’s neck, her face, her lips, her breasts, elven eyes glinting and reflecting in the dark like mirrors. “I always feel like dying again.”

“No dying today, just life,” Isabela answers breathlessly and Merrill laughs, surprised and delighted, before she rakes her fingernails along Isabela’s ribs, then her hipbone, before sliding between her legs. The moment of anticipation before Merrill slips a finger inside her is always the sweetest, finished with one loud, grateful sigh and half-closed eyes. Isabela warms the smaller body in her arms, breath hitching for a moment when Merrill’s fangs sink into her throat and draw blood. The penetration is sweet pain that sends waves of pleasure through Isabela’s body and makes the sensation of Merrill’s fingers inside her even more delightful and she closes her eyes, guiding Merrill’s hand to where she wants, needs it to be.

“Maker, I want to fuck you,” She gasps between two thrusts and Merrill hums against her exposed throat in delight, hums louder when Isabela strokes her perfect small breasts, her perfect perky little nipples and feels the life and warmth seep back into Merrill’s body. It is a miracle and no wonder that the Chantry so recklessly tries to extinguish every single vampire in Thedas; the Chantry never could understand the beauty of someone like Merrill with bloody lips stretched into a smile and elven eyes glinting in the dark like those of a ghost, a madwoman, a free spirit of the land.

She is beautiful, ever so beautiful, lovely inside and outside, and Isabela is so afraid to stay, but she cannot help but linger, keeping the ghost, the madwoman, the free spirit of the land, the elven mage and the simple woman close to her heart, closer than anyone is allowed to see, closer than Merrill probably knows.


End file.
